Emerald Perspectives
by Farla
Summary: What do the characters of Emerald think as you wander in and out of their lives?
1. Birch

"Help! Help!" I don't know why I'm screaming. One of the children in town might be able to hear me, but none of them would dare leave without a pokemon, so there's no hope they'd do it now of all times, knowing there's actual danger. I'm the one who taught them that.

I can't believe I made such an error. I always taught to never go out without pokemon, never let yourself be separated from your pokemon's pokeballs, and then I go and make the most basic mistake there is. The zigzagoon runs at me after I had turned and half-unslung my bag to get my notebook, and I panic. I move to run. _I drop the damn bag_.

How painfully – and it will be painful – ironic, for me to be just a few pathetic yards from town. I can't believe – wait, you - are you a trainer? "Help me!" I call.

The zigzagoon is chasing me, and I can't really take my eyes off the ground as I stumble through the grass and over uneven ground. But I can spare a second's glance. No pokeballs. And you came anyway. Thank Jirachi for such selflessness. "My bag!" I call, as the zigzagoon corners me. "Grab one of the pokeballs!"

You step forward, towards me, but then go right, as if to examine the trees over there, then start back towards town. "Where are you going? Help me!" I scream. The zigzagoon makes a feint at my leg.

You stop, turn. Start towards me again. Your movements are strangely unhurried, languid even, but no matter. You are coming. And you kneel at the bag and reach out one hand to grab the left pokeball. Saved! I'm saved!

Why are you turning the pokeball slowly in your hand, your expression thoughtful? WHY ARE YOU SETTING IT DOWN? You pick up another – yes, yes, throw it – no, please don't – don't set it back down! Now the third one, the last pokeball, you've seen them all you must throw this one –

But instead you are setting it down, you are walking to the left, you are going as if towards and past me. I scream hysterically "No, grab a pokeball!" my voice higher pitched in my panic than I thought possible, and I wonder if you could understand it, if you could understand any of my words. The zigzagoon sinks its teeth into my shoe, puncturing well through the leather.

Rolling your eyes you turn again, walk so very very calmly back, stand over the pokeballs as if thinking as the zigzagoon releases my shoe for my ankle. I scream. You examine your choices.

And then you pick one, hold it, throw it at last. The zigzagoon releases me and I slump down, my chest pounding so hard I feel afraid suddenly of a heart attack. And I'm saved. I'm saved. My leg throbs and the pain reminds me in each burst of how my fate would have been. And giddy at my narrow escape, I promise you the pokemon as you recall the victorious fighter.

You don't look at all surprised as you calmly place it on your belt, and I realize you made no motion to return it to the others, as if you were already intending to keep it.


	2. Brendan

I always preferred the way the first game started over the second two. So much more challenging and so much more…well, fair.

* * *

How did you get to be so strong?

I – I don't understand. Just this morning you said you didn't have any pokemon. The one you've got now is from my dad. I don't – they were all the same level. Mine and yours. I don't understand at all. How is yours so much stronger?

There aren't any trainers along the way here. Were there? They usually hang out west of town. I – I'm sure I didn't see any, not on my way up. Did one come by right after I passed? Did you beat them somehow, with just your new pokemon? And besides, I thought you were…

I don't understand at all. How can you be…just stronger? There were only wild pokemon on the way. Unless you got separated from your pokemon like what just happened to Dad, they're easy to pass by. You don't have any pokeballs either, so you wouldn't have any reason to fight them.

You fought that zigzagoon, I know. But that couldn't have raised your pokemon up this much. Couldn't have. And there wasn't anyone else here for you to fight.

I don't understand. There's just – how could you be so strong already? This was supposed to be both of our first battles.

Not unless you fought the wild pokemon instead, and nobody'd do that, right?


	3. Wally

To be the child of a gym leader... It must be wonderful.

You look so calm and strong. You just stood there unbothered when I blundered in. When Mr. Norman asked you to help me, you just shrugged and nodded, turned to go. I babbled thanks, stupidly, wishing I could be so collected and self-assured. Is this what all trainers are like? Self-reliant and strong. Who isn't just a half-noticed nuisance.

_"You're... Uh... Oh, right. You're Wally, right?"_

We head to the eastern edge of town. I'd never been out there. Without a pokemon, you can't go anywhere by yourself. And if you're weak and sickly, people say they won't take you because something might happen.

_"Go with Wally and make sure that he safely catches a pokemon."_

I hesitated, but you were so unconcerned, and so I stepped gingerly into the grass, as Mom had always told me never to do.

_"You... would you really come with me?"_

I held the pokeball so tightly my fingers ached. My hand was sweating and I tried to hold it even tighter so it couldn't slip out of my grasp.  
_  
"Wally, here, I'll loan you my pokemon."_

_"Oh, wow! A pokemon!"_

_"Hm, I'll give you a pokeball, too. Go for it!"_

_"Oh, wow! Thank you!"_

The grass rustled and I nearly shouted in surprise, throwing the pokeball forward and closing my eyes an instant. When I opened them I saw the two pokemon facing each other, the zigzagoon standing protectively between me and the other pokemon. For a moment I was afraid, but the other pokemon was so small, its body looking weak and pale, like me, and its head too big for its thin neck. It didn't do anything to attack, just stood there quietly.

I told the zigzagoon to attack and it did. The white and green pokemon just growled quietly, the sound cute rather than scary.

I turn to you, still standing there as if this is nothing unusual. "You throw a pokeball now, right?" I ask nervously, and you nod absently. "...I'll do my best!" I promise you. I'll catch a pokemon right. I won't be more of an inconvenience to you.

I throw it, holding my breath as it flies, holding my breath as the pokeball rocks. Then it stills and I run forward. "I did it... It's my... My pokemon!" I shout, turning to you. And you were still so calm and cool, and suddenly I felt embarrassed at how excited I was, when you had four pokemon already and I think that to you, catching pokemon must be so easy, and I think of how much I wish to be like you, so confident, so competent. The child of a gym leader who's given a pokemon rather than having to beg permission from unwilling parents. Who can travel on your own wherever you want. To be like you...

Later a friend who called me said you remained in that section of grass for more than an hour until another one appeared.


End file.
